Memoirs of Napoleon, vol 4 | Page 9

be in his youth. He long indignantly cherished the
recollection of the conquest of Corsica, which he was once content to
regard as his country. But that recollection was effaced, and it might be
said that he now ardently loved France. His imagination was fired by
the very thought of seeing her great, happy, and powerful, and, as the
first nation in the world, dictating laws to the rest. He fancied his name
inseparably connected with France, and resounding in, the ears of
posterity. In all his actions he lost sight of the present moment, and
thought only of futurity; so, in all places where he led the way to glory,
the opinion of France was ever present in his thoughts. As Alexander at
Arbela pleased himself less in having conquered Darius than in having
gained the suffrage of the Athenians, so Bonaparte at Marengo was
haunted by the idea of what would be said in France. Before he fought
a battle Bonaparte thought little about what he should do in case of
success, but a great deal about what he should do in case of a reverse of
fortune. I mention this as a fact of which I have often been a witness,
and leave to his brothers in arms to decide whether his calculations
were always correct. He had it in his power to do much, for he risked
everything and spared nothing. His inordinate ambition goaded him on
to the attainment of power; and power when possessed served only to
augment his ambition. Bonaparte was thoroughly convinced of the truth
that trifles often decide the greatest events; therefore he watched rather
than provoked opportunity, and when the right moment approached, he
suddenly took advantage of it. It is curious that, amidst all the anxieties
of war and government, the fear of the Bourbons incessantly pursued
him, and the Faubourg St. Germain was to him always a threatening
phantom.
He did not esteem mankind, whom, indeed, he despised more and more
in proportion as he became acquainted with them. In him this
unfavourable opinion of human nature was justified by many glaring
examples of baseness, and he used frequently to repeat, "There are two
levers for moving men,--interest and fear." What respect, indeed, could
Bonaparte entertain for the applicants to the treasury of the opera? Into
this treasury the gaming-houses paid a considerable sum, part of which
went to cover the expenses of that magnificent theatre. The rest was
distributed in secret gratuities, which were paid on orders signed by

Duroc. Individuals of very different characters were often seen catching
the little door in the Rue Rameau. The lady who was for a while the
favourite of the General-in-Chief in Egypt, and whose husband was
maliciously sent back-by the English, was a frequent visitor to the
treasury. On an occasion would be seen assembled there a distinguished
scholar and an actor, a celebrated orator and a musician; on another, the
treasurer would have payments to make to a priest, a courtesan, and a
cardinal.
One of Bonaparte's greatest misfortunes was, that he neither believed in
friendship not felt the necessity of loving. How often have I heard him
say, "Friendship is but a name; I love nobody. I do not even love my
brothers. Perhaps Joseph, a little, from habit and because he is my elder;
and Duroc, I love him too. But why? Because his character pleases me.
He is stern and resolute; and I really believe the fellow never shed a
tear. For my part, I know very well that I have no true friends. As long
as I continue what I am, I may have as many pretended friends as I
please. Leave sensibility to women; it is their business. But men should
be firm in heart and in purpose, or they should have nothing to do with
war or government."
In his social relations Bonaparte's temper was bad; but his fits of ill-
humour passed away like a cloud, and spent themselves in words. His
violent language and bitter imprecations were frequently premeditated.
When he was going to reprimand any one he liked to have a witness
present. He would then say the harshest things, and level blows against
which few could bear up. But he never gave way to those violent
ebullitions of rage until be acquired undoubted proofs of the
misconduct of those against whom they were directed. In scenes of this
sort I have frequently observed that the presence of a third person
seemed to give him confidence. Consequently, in a 'tete-a-tete'
interview, any one who knew his character, and who could maintain
sufficient coolness and firmness, was sure to get the better of him. He
told his friends at St. Helena that he admitted a third person on such
occasions only